


in wine there is wisdom

by baby_babeyy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jon is a horny drunk, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, Tormund is a sweet drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_babeyy/pseuds/baby_babeyy
Summary: Jon and Tormund get drunk at the feast celebrating winning the Battle of Winterfell.Tormund is an unexpectedly emotional drunk. Jon however...[all other pairings except Jonmund are just implied]





	1. Tormund

**Author's Note:**

> This took me way too long to write, but I forced myself to finish it to make up for the fact that I've not posted anything for about 3 weeks.
> 
> I'm on tumblr: baby-babeyy
> 
> Come send me Jonmund stuff <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is worried about talking to a drunken Tormund. Turns out she had nothing to be worried about.

Sansa had first met Tormund years ago, when she’d arrived at Castle Black. She’d been so relieved to see Jon again, to be back with her family, that she hadn’t taken much notice of the wildling.

Once she did take notice, she’d been wary- not for herself, but for Jon. Her brother seemed to trust him, was depending on him to help them retake Winterfell, but from everything she’d heard of wildlings growing up, she wasn’t sure if they’d have Jon’s back on the battlefield. She’d never been happier to be proven wrong.

The free folk as she found out they were called, had fought bravely, had lost as much as any of them and she’d never be able to thank them enough. They’d helped to keep Jon in one piece and given her back her home; Sansa would never stop trying to repay them for it.

After the battle was over she’d seen Jon, face the picture of anger, covered head to toe in blood and mud, shaking with his pure hatred for Ramsay, so different from her usually stoic brother. Tormund had gone up to him then, in much the same state, said something to him quietly, and pulled him deep into his chest, holding him close. Sansa was shocked to see Jon, who’s never been touchy, melt into the taller man’s arms, burying his dirty face into even dirtier furs and whispering into each others ears.

She knew then there was something going on and she continued to notice the details of their relationship more and more. How tightly they held each other when they embraced. How Tormund stroked Jon’s hair as he wrapped him in his arms. The soft look in Jon’s eyes when he gazed at Tormund. The gently possessive way Tormund called Jon ‘my pretty crow’.

So she definitely wasn’t shocked at all when the day the men arrived from Eastwatch, Tormund barrelled into Jon, and Jon in return pulled him impossibly close, forehead to forehead, and kissed him passionately. Their relationship was apparently news to no one, and now that they’d announced it (albeit impulsively) they didn’t need to hide it. They deserved to be happy after everything they’d both been through, and would have to go through in the weeks that followed.

The battle against the dead had been a fight hard won, and everyone that fought deserved a proper celebration. Sansa practically emptied their wine cellars, brought out the least terrible ale they had, and had as much food as could be spared cooked.

Everyone had been drinking, Jon and Tormund were no exception. The relief of winning the battle looked good on her brother- he looked lighter than she’d ever seen him. In spite of all they had lost there was no doubt that this was a victory and he was celebrating as such. He’d deposited himself next to the Lannister brothers, who were sat with Brienne and Pod, who seemed deep in conversation with Bran. Jon was grinning, laughing loudly at something Tyrion had said, cheeks flushed and shoulders loose with how much wine he’d drunk.

She herself was sat at the front of the hall, Tormund sat at her side, and Ser Davos stood leaning against the table chatting to them both. The redhead was sprawled over the table, eyes trained on Jon across the room. Sansa braced herself. She’d heard from Jon, Davos, Edd, and even Gendry about Tormund’s crude stories of bedding women, men, giants, even a bear. She didn’t need to hear those sorts of things about her big brother. They all knew what he and Tormund got up to, it was blatant in the way they’d walk shyly out of Jon’s room on a morning, or the hungry gazes they gave that lingered too long, or the things Tormund would whisper in Jon’s ear that made his face turn deep red. It was enough for her knowing that Jon got up to those activities, she didn’t need all the gory details, but with how much Tormund had drunk, and his penchant for over-sharing, it seemed inevitable.

Tormund lifted himself from the table, throwing himself back in his chair, and giving a long exhale. Sansa braced herself.

“You know Lady Stark, your brother,” he started. She hummed questioningly, not wanting to prompt him too much.

Here it comes here it comes here it comes

“He’s got the most beautiful eyes I ever saw.”

Oh. Not quite what she expected.

“Fucking gorgeous they are, I could spend my life gazing into them if he’d let me.”

Tormund’s voice had taken on a soft, dreamy tone she’d never expected to hear come from the gruff giant.

“And those curls, by the gods have you ever seen anything more perfect than those curls?”

Davos had started to chuckle, and Sansa felt a smile tugging at her lips.

“But do you know what my favourite thing about him is?” He continued, eyes wide and painfully earnest.  
“He’s got such a beautiful heart.” A gentle smile crossed over his lips then, and Sansa felt her heart melt just a little. One look at Davos and his misty eyes told her he felt very much the same.

“Since I met him he’s always done the right thing. He’s loyal, so loyal he got himself killed for it. He’s so caring, always thinking of others. He’s so full of love, for his family and his friends and the north. He’s brave, and he’s strong. He’s been through so much yet he’s still here. I can’t believe I get to call him mine.”

Sansa smiled, putting a slender hand over one of Tormund’s giant ones.

“I’m glad he has you Tormund.” She said softly, squeezing his hand.  
Davos stepped closer, clapping a hand on the readheads shoulder. 

“Aye, you’re good for him. He needs people like that to have his back.”  
Tormund grinned broadly, looking back over to Jon affectionately.

“I love him, that pretty little crow. I’ll steal him properly one of these days.”  
As Sansa was about to open her mouth to retort, Arya ran up to the table hissing at her urgently.

“Sansa quickly, we need to stop Jon. He’s being…inappropriate.”


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion's excited to speak to a drunken Jon. He never expected this...

When Tyrion had first met Jon Snow he’d been a broody young boy heading for a life of solitude in the Night’s Watch. The second time they’d met, Jon had still been broody and a good few years less young, now King in the North rather than manning the wall. That first time he’d been visibly weighed down by the shame of being Ned Stark’s bastard and Lady Catelyn’s constant scorn. When they reunited at Dragonstone, Jon had much bigger problems resting on his shoulders. The impending army of the dead, and everything he’d lost along the way to fighting them had turned him serious and single-minded, only caring about getting through the winter. 

The Jon that plopped down next to him seemed almost a changed man. He was light and wearing a carefree smile, his face relaxed, bearing no signs of being preoccupied - he was just enjoying the moment. 

Tyrion was grateful for the addition the their little group. Podrick was chatting away, infinitely sweetly to Bran Stark, who looked more animated than Tyrion had seen him since he became the three eyed raven or whatever it was. Brienne and Jaime were excellent company, and he enjoyed watching them make jabs at one another, but now they'd started looking at each other, and not just a casual glance but looking deeply, and he was starting to feel like a fifth wheel.

Before he could welcome the young man, Jaime had turned from the woman next to him and shifted focus to Jon.

“I’d appreciate if you could stop your little wildling friend from staring at Brienne all the time Jon Snow,” he said, “It makes her uncomfortable to have a man’s attention.” 

Brienne hit his brother then, almost knocking him from the bench they sat on. 

“That won’t be necessary my Lord,” Brienne said before turning to Jaime, “And as for you, I can speak for myself, thank you very much.”

Jon giggled at that, and Tyrion watched bemused. He’s not sure he’s ever seen the boy laugh before. Jaime meanwhile bristled at Brienne’s words. 

“Fine then,” he said, “Ask him because it makes me uncomfortable, and jealous, and I don’t like the way he’s pursuing Brienne.” 

Jon burst into laughter then, giggles becoming full bodied bellows. Jaime, distracted from the admission he’d just made, looked on in confusion, sending Tyrion a glance as if to ask what was happening. Brienne was staring at Jaime in shock. Tyrion decided to intervene.

“Jon,” he said slowly, “May I ask what’s so funny about my brother’s feelings towards Ser Brienne?”

Jon’s laughter came to an end and he straighten himself in his chair before replying, smile still on his face. 

“There’s nothing funny about that, actually I'm very happy for you both.” He replied, making Brienne blush slightly at the insinuation. “I only laugh because I can assure you, Tormund is not pursuing Brienne.” 

Jaime’s face grew even more confused, his frown deepening.   
“Then how do you explain the way he stares at her?” he said to Jon, challenge in his voice.

At that, Jon seemed like he was suppressing another laugh. 

“Strength is important to the Free Folk above all other things. To them, Brienne is the most perfect woman that could exist.” Brienne’s cheeks flushed an even deeper red at Jon’s words as Jaime turned to look at her. 

“I can assure you, Tormund’s very satisfied with the way things are.” Something suggestive in Jon’s tone gave both Lannisters the impression they were missing something.

“The way things are?” Jaime asked. 

Jon glance over at Tormund behind him, before turning back to the table with a smirk. 

“Me and Tormund. We’re together.” He says as if it were obvious. “Surely you’ve noticed? We don’t exactly hide it. He’s shared my bed since we returned to Winterfell.” 

Tyrion was in shock. One, because he’d never have thought Jon Snow and the wildling would be fucking. Two, because apparently everyone else in the North had. Eventually, he managed to pick up his jaw from where it was on the floor.

“What?” He stuttered out.

Jon threw his head back with a chuckle.

“I’ve been Tormund’s since I left the watch- before that even.” His brow furrowed in thought.

“The first time was on our way to Hardhome, just before we arrived. It was so fucking cold, I thought I mightn’t make it through the night. He shared my bed for the first time that night. At first we were just sleeping, huddled under the furs together to share warmth. But then he pulled me close, those big rough hands all over my body...” Jon let out a groan at the memory. 

Tyrion wasn’t too sure where this story was going, but it was equal parts fascinating and amusing to watch the usually prudish man let go of his inhibitions. 

“Tell me Jon, is he every bit as wild as he looks?” Tyrion asked him amusedly. Jon smirked. 

“Oh, more so.” He replied with a laugh. “He fucks like an animal, absolutely relentless. The amount of mornings I’ve stumbled out of my bed limping like a new born horse because he fucked me so good the night before. My skin’s turned red all over from his beard scratching me.” 

A dark look came into Jon's eyes, his voice seeming to drop an octave.

“You know, it’s no easy feat, being fucked by Tormund. They don’t call him Giantsbane for nothing. I hardly thought it’d fit the first time we fucked. And the amount of jaw aches I’ve had to endure you wouldn't believe...” 

Tyrion was struggling to hide his amusement now. Brienne and Jaime had gotten up and disappeared at some stage, and Pod had turned bright red, wheeling Bran away from his brother as fast as he could manage.  
“So tell me Jon Snow, how did I manage to miss what is clearly the worst kept secret in the North?”

Jon shrugged, his lips upturned in a small smile.

“Not a secret, never has been.” He took another swig of wine and sunk even lower into his chair. “I’m pretty sure everyone else knew almost instantly...” Jon stood up then suddenly, shouting across the hall. 

“Gendry! GENDRY!” 

The newly titled Lord of Storm’s End whipped his head around at the sound of Jon’s voice from where he’d been chatting with Arya.

Jon smiled at him and waved him over.

“Gendry, how long did it take you to figure out me and Tormund were sucking each others cocks?”

Gendry choked at Jon’s crude words, soon bursting into laughter, doubling over and clutching his ribs.

“Gross Jon, I’m here too.” Arya piped up out of nowhere. 

Jon smiled at her fondly, asking without a trace of anger, “What did I say about sneaking up on me?”

Arya simply smirked, rolling her eyes at her drunken brother.

“Are you going to answer me Gendry? Or are you above that now that you're Lord of a great house?” Jon teased. 

Anticipating more conversation she didn't want to witness, Arya slid off towards where Sansa was sat at Tormund’s side.

Gendry composed himself, straightening up before answering.

“Well, as soon as I saw you together I had my suspicions. I didn't know for sure until I heard you two going at it while we were at Eastwatch.” 

Jon blushed at that, looking shy for the first time all night.

“You heard them? They were that loud?’ Tyrion asked in disbelief.

The red of Jon’s cheeks intensified and for a change he seemed lost for words. 

“Oh yes, those two can get very loud when they want to. Descriptive as well. I never thought I’d know the in’s and out's of the King in the North getting his cock sucked.” 

Jon frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. 

“I didn’t realise you could hear that.” He said. “Can everyone hear us? All the time?” 

Gendry and Tyrion simply laughed in response at how disturbed Jon looked at the thought of being heard. He certainly didn’t mind telling them the details of what he got up to, but apparently hearing him was where he drew the line.   
For the first time that evening Jon didn’t seem to be laughing. He muttered under his breath before clambering up onto the table and shouting.

“Oi! How many of you, have heard Tormund and I fuck?” He addressed the room as a whole bluntly. 

There was uproarious laughter from many of the guests, mostly the Free Folk and those Jon considered his friends. Danaerys looked shell shocked, clearly not anticipating this from Jon. Sansa and Arya hurried towards him from where they sat at the front of the hall. Before they could reach him a booming voice came from across the room. 

“Are you ashamed of me, my little crow?” 

By now, everyone in the hall had their eyes trained on Jon and Tormund. Sansa had reached Jon where he stood on the table, and was fruitlessly attempting to pull him down. 

You could almost see Jon’s heart shatter at Tormund’s words. He leapt from the table and hurried across the now silent room towards the taller man. 

“Of course not!” He said earnestly, “I love you, so much I want to shout it from the top of the wall.” 

Tormund smiled down at Jon then, pulling him close to him so that their foreheads were touching. 

“I love you too, pretty crow.” Tormund said quietly, his eyes brimming with emotion. 

Jon leaned up to peck him on the lips gently. 

“And I also love how well you fuck me,” He said, voice not quite as quiet as he may have hoped. “I was telling Tyrion just how good your cock makes me feel when you-“ 

The room was still deadly silent, Jon’s words being heard by everyone in the hall. Sansa had noticed the uncomfortable look on Arya’s face that mirrored how she herself felt hearing her brother’s crude words. 

Tormund had cut Jon off with a passionate kiss, his big hands sliding all over Jon’s body, down to grope his ass, making Jon let out a deep groan. 

“Jon! Tormund!” She shouted sharply, tearing everyone’s attention away from the two men. 

Jon turned to face her, his eyes slightly glazed, looking vaguely disorientated. 

“Don’t you think you’d rather do that elsewhere?” She asked politely. “Your room, Tormund’s tent, a cupboard, the hallway, absolutely anywhere else?” 

The pair blushed sheepishly looking at the audience they’d accumulated. 

“Come on, Jon,” Tormund said, clasping Jon’s shoulder and steering him towards the door. “Let’s make use of that big southern bed of yours.” 

As the pair scurried away and the room eventually returned to chatter, Sansa looked over to Arya, smiling amusedly at Jon’s antics. He may be mortifyingly disgusting, but their brother was loved. He was in happy, smiling and carefree for possibly the first time in his life, and as his sisters, that was all they ever wanted for him. 

Arya slinked off somewhere to resume her conversation with Gendry, so Sansa turned to a now alone Tyiron, who was grinning at her. 

“Did he really tell you all about…well I’d rather not repea it, but… you know?” 

Tyrion chuckled at her embarrassment, and she found the way he smiled gently at her reminiscent of the time they spent together in King’s Landing. His company was perhaps the one thing she had come to enjoy about those years. 

“Oh yes,” he replied. “All the gory details too. Would you like to hear them, Lady Stark?” 

Sansa’s protests could barely be heard over his uproarious laughter, and the distant sounds of Jon’s satisfied moans.


End file.
